The Sad Life of Brad the Piano Player
by Victoria1127
Summary: Brad hates those Glee kids.  Now we know why.


**The sad life of Brad the Piano Player**

(special thanks to Paloma and Joep for the ideas!)

Dear Diary,

Something amazing has happened! Finally, my masters in Piano playing has paid off! I started as the piano player at William McKinley High School for their Glee club today. The kids are so sweet. God, I know this is gonna be perfect. Judith is so proud of me. I came home a little later than expected, but she understands how important this is. I am finally providing for my family. Joey's 16th birthday is next month, and I'll finally have money to buy him a gift! The twins, Rachel and Wesley, are very excited about starting 1st grade today. They giggled when I told them it was my first day at school too.

Life is so good.

...

Dear Diary,

I'm so tired, I can barely write.

This job is more grueling than expected. I stay at school from 7am to 7pm—later than that, if the kids are performing. I stay in the choir room, at everyone's beck and call, ready to play any song that pops into their heads.

Today, I invited Judith to come see the kids perform so that she could see the good work I was doing. I was too excited. I wasn't even playing, but these are *my* kids, as I lovingly refer to them, and they need my support!

Well, it was awful.

Judith is furious. The kids didn't perform the right song—which is upsetting, since I worked with them on "Freak Out" for 8 hours straight. They ended up doing some raunchy dance, and my wife was appalled. She yelled at me and said that I worked late hours with girls that flash their asses while she stays home and cares for the children.

"Push It" is right—this job is pushing things, but I remain optimistic.

...

Dear Diary,

I don't really know the bounds of my job, but I think I'm being taken advantage of.

Will Schuester is my boss. He seemed like a nice enough guy—talked WAY too much, but nice. Well, he started a boy band with a couple of his friends and two students. Creepy, am I right? But for some reason, I have been recruited to play during their little group practices. To be honest, I think Will has something sexual going on with some of these kids. He kept saying, "Swing that Big Ol' Bat" to the two teenage boys. And don't even get me started on how he looks at that gay kid.

Judith is no longer speaking to me. The sweetest girl in the club is named Brittany, and she always says nice things to me. Brittany lives upstairs in our apartment building, and at first, I really enjoyed seeing her as we came and went, but now she visits the house constantly. Rachel and Wesley adore her, and we caught her kissing Joey one evening. It was really cute. But now she's flirting with ME! She asked me in front of my wife if I wanted to "make baby ducks" with her. I have no idea what that means, but it made Judith mad.

I sleep on the couch now.

...

Dear Diary,

Now I have to play at football practice! They're doing some kind of dancing thing to warm the players up...I don't even know. Also, I have to play piano for the school's musical, Cabaret. The lead is one of the Glee kids, Rachel. She makes me play each song at least 10 times, because she said she has "no faith in my abilities", and "it must be perfection." Her voice is amazing, but it is slowly becoming grating. I want to rip out her vocal chords with my bare hands.

I usually get home from work around 8pm. Between Glee, Cabaret, and Football, that's the earliest I can even think of coming home. Tonight, as I snuggled up on the couch to go to sleep, Wesley came through to get some water. He screamed and told Judith there was a "strange man" on the couch.

I miss my old life. This job is ruining everything I've ever had.

...

Dear Diary,

April Rhodes. I want to murder her.

She calls me "Tinkles", despite my pleas for her to call me either Brad or Mr. Brody. She hangs all over me when we have one-on-one practice, so I smell like liquor constantly. My wife actually accused me of being an alcoholic. It was the first words she has spoken to me in a couple of weeks.

They performed "Last Name" at the invitational. They made me dress as a cowboy. It was degrading. I hated myself. My mother was killed by a cowboy. She didn't know his last name, either.

I spent my night on the couch crying.

...

Dear Diary,

It's been a horrible week. The damn kids are competing against each other. Finn Hudson put a blue pill in my water. He said it was a vitamin. I smiled, because he was such a nice kid to be caring about my well-being. I assumed he just noticed I had been feeling kind of down.

I played the piano faster than ever before. I thought I was just on top of my game, but then I started shaking uncontrollably. I had to go to the hospital. My wife and kids picked me up. Little Rachel asked me why I was a "druggie."

I absolutely despise those Glee kids. I want to kill them. _These_ are my confessions.

...

Dear Diary,

Now there are TWO Glee clubs. I've spent the last couple of nights sleeping under my piano, since they have me playing songs day and night. I find it ironic that I have to play "No Air" for the kid who tried to kill me with his magic pills last week,

Joey's birthday was yesterday. He had been asking me for this "really cool" white sweater that he saw in a fashion magazine. I drove an hour to the mall to find this sweater. It was $300. I saved up my paychecks for 2 weeks so that I could afford this sweater he wanted so badly. With pride, I strode into the mall and demanded ONE FUZZY WHITE SWEATER PLEASE! They were sold out. I ended up giving him some money. His disappointed look was obvious.

Today, I go to school and I see someone wearing the very same white sweater. Guess who? Kurt Hummel.

I hate my life.

...

Dear Diary,

Today, Will wanted the kids to sing "Bust a Move", but he did the rapping...which is pretty unfair, in my opinion. Why is HE singing? He's the teacher. I was really uncomfortable with him touching all the kids. I am increasingly certain that he's a pedophile. He cuddled all the cheerleaders, and after everyone left for the day, Kurt came to his office. They shut the door and didn't come out for over an hour. When Kurt left, his lips were all pink and swollen. I can and WILL call the cops if I see anything amiss.

Slipped on a slushie in the hallway and broke my toe. Strike two for Mr. Kurt Hummel. I have nothing against gay people, but I am THIS CLOSE to committing a hate crime.

...

Dear Diary,

Judith left me.

The kids rallied around Artie, the kid in the wheelchair. They needed to raise money to get a handicapped bus, so they raised awareness by riding in wheelchairs. I got a wheelchair, too. Artie is one of the three kids I like—the other two being Tina and Brittany. THOSE are the nice ones. The kids decided to do a bake sale fundraiser, so I bought a cupcake for myself and 4 for Judith and the kids. Well, I don't know what was in those cupcakes, but after I had one, I immediately devoured the rest.

I walked around in a daze. I found the wheelchair Brittany lost (I knew it was hers, because there were duck stickers on it), and I walked toward it, but my vision blurred horribly, and I tripped over it, knocking my broken toe and badly injuring my other leg. I once again went to the hospital, only to find that my system had about half a pound of marijuana in it. I honestly have no idea how this happened.

My wife left me with the kids. She said she could never be with a "junkie". My kids avoid eye contact with me at all times.

...

Dear Diary,

Will graciously gave me an extra hour of free time since I was injured from the wheelchair incident. It took me nearly a half hour to hobble and limp to the auditorium. I just wanted to play a song to lift my spirits, just like the old days when I couldn't find a job.

It's sad that I miss being unemployed.

So, I finally make it to the auditorium, moving at a snail's pace, and what do I see?

Finn and Kurt. Kurt is playing MY piano. Finn is singing "I'll Stand By You."

Stand, huh? STAND?

Mocking my injury is a new low, Finn Hudson. I may be crippled for life. I want to make you drink antifreeze.

...

Dear Diary,

The Glee club's competition, the school for the deaf, came today. I asked the director if they needed a pianist, and he started yelling at me about Scarlet Fever. Finally, we resorted to communicating by writing notes. He told me he did piano for his kids about three hours a day and got paid twice as much as I did. He also told me about the kids, whom he loved like they were his own kids and they were all so sweet and respectful. I asked if he needed ANY help at all and I would take ANY job. He declined.

I want to look for a new job, but I can't...Glee keeps me here until late, and then I have ONE HOUR off from 5-6 to run home and fix food for my kids, and then back to school.

Glee kills.

...

Dear Diary,

I hate Rachel Berry and Finn Hudson with a passion I can only call religious.

First, there's Rachel—she's the absolute worst. HOURS I spend with her, just playing whatever she wants. She takes advantage like crazy. So, she asked me to learn this song called "Smile". I learn it for her, and she doesn't think it's good enough, so she made me play it 20 times in a row. IN A ROW.

I hate her so much, I have resorted to calling my own daughter "Mafalda". There will be no Rachel in my home.

And then, Finn. I haven't forgotten him drugging me and mocking me. And they learn these songs and it's like the only dance moves he knows are moves that involve him flailing as he runs around and around my piano. The two of them running circles around me gives me vertigo. So in my dizziness, I mess up and Rachel gets mad and I have to start over.

Do you have any will to live? I've run out.

...

Dear Diary,

We won Sectionals. I hoped with quiet longing that we would lose and the club would disband, but no. We won. Life is not all bad, though, diary. For once in my life since starting this job, I have something to look forward to.

At sectionals, I was hard at work, praying to a God I no longer believe exists that Rachel would fall off the edge of the stage and break her legs, and then I could piss on her as she lies there in pain, and I would scream, "LOOK AT ME! I AM LITERALLY RAINING ON YOUR PARADE!" It was quite pleasant.

So, I must have been smiling widely, because a handsome man walked over and asked me, "Is that your daughter?"

I looked up into the emotion-stricken face of Rachel Berry and proclaimed, "Oh, fuck no."

He laughed. "I'm Alex."

"Brad."

We smiled at each other. He's a social worker who loves music as much as I do. He came to Sectionals to see his nephew, who happens to be Artie—one of the few I like! I told him about Joey, Wesley, and Mafalda, and he wrote his number on my hand and told me to call him.

I have a boyfriend, diary. Maybe life is looking up.


End file.
